


Little Did They Sleep

by Antarctica_or_bust



Series: To Rewrite History [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Howling Commandos, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bad Marvel Science, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes does not believe in Big Gay Freakouts, Bucky gets to keep his arm for once, Communication, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lost Love, M/M, Making Out, Moving On, Nightmares, Oblivious, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Old-fashioned terms, POV Peggy Carter, POV Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Howard Stark Friendship, Pining, Poignant, Rescue Missions, Seriously - they talk things out at last, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve and Bucky fell, Steve is in denial about a lot of things, Suits, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, University, Weddings, the slowest of slow burns, you know - the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-03-12 13:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13548507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: A determined Peggy brings Steve home much sooner but sometimes being found is just as hard as staying lost.(This is not a story about Captain America, this is a story about Steve.)





	1. Part I: Peggy

**Author's Note:**

> Although I borrowed one character from Season 1 of Agent Carter, I don’t consider this a real crossover. (Though seriously, how has no one else ever used the Peggy/Daniel tag?) And sorry this took so long; writing this fic was a lot like pulling teeth. But it’s done, finally, and I think there will only be 1 more story in this series.
> 
> So enjoy and if you happen to notice any anachronistic words for a British-born woman in the 50s, feel free to let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy is determined to bring Steve Rogers home.

_I need to find Steve’s body._ The thought struck Peggy partway through her breakfast on a fine spring morning in New York. She needed to bring Steve home because she was happy; Peggy was blissfully, incandescently happy in her adopted city and it wasn’t right that Steve Rogers never got to feel the same.

If things had turned out differently, Steve might be the one sitting there across her breakfast table and while Peggy certainly didn't think her husband second-best, she couldn’t deny a twinge of might-have-been. For years, she'd held out hope that Steve would turn up somewhere but enough was enough. Peggy was Mrs. Daniel Sousa now and she didn't want to build their future while dwelling on the past. If she found Steve, maybe she could put those memories to rest so that she could focus freely on her current happiness.

“Pegs? Are you all right?” her husband asked, drawing Peggy from her thoughts. When she glanced up, Daniel looked concerned and she could hardly blame him; her epiphany had frozen her halfway through a sip of tea.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about how pleased I am to be here,” Peggy told said, putting down her mug and then reaching out to take her husband's hand. “And I was also thinking that it’s time for the SSR to bring Steve's body home.”

“Steve? You mean Steve Rogers? But I thought no one knew where he had fallen,” Daniel replied. “I checked the files on his last mission a few years ago and they just said ‘in the Alps.’”

“That’s true officially. Colonel Phillips never put the location down in writing in case the Red Skull’s plan succeeded. No one wanted Hydra to get their hands on Captain America’s body, not with the things his blood can do. But that threat is gone now and Steve deserves a proper burial. None of us would be here if he and the Howling Commandos hadn’t captured Arnim Zola back in 1945.”

“You’re right, of course. And you know I’ll help you any way I can,” Daniel said and that right there was one of the many reasons that Peggy married him. “Do you want to talk to Stark before coming into the office today? You don’t have any urgent cases so this is probably a good time.”

“That would be lovely. Are you sure?”

“Of course. What’s the point of being the Director if I can’t help my own wife out?” Daniel asked with a grin.

“I suppose. Just don’t make a habit of it,” Peggy told him, amusement in her voice. She finished her breakfast and washed up, gathering her coat and kissing her husband before walking out the door.

Howard wasn’t home when she arrived but Jarvis knew where to find him and when the scientist heard what Peggy had to say, he dropped everything. In fact, Howard offered to buy a plane and fly her to Austria that instant and Peggy was reminded that Steve Rogers had been his friend as well. If he’d known the location of Captain America’s last mission, Howard probably would have tried to find him years ago. But the scientist had been in London when Steve went MIA and he‘d never asked Peggy for the details; he hadn’t wanted to poke a bleeding wound.

However, that wound finally had a chance to heal completely and after almost ten years, both of them were more than ready to see Steve brought home again.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Howard got an idea in his head, he became a force of nature and Peggy found herself on a plane to Europe two weeks later. This was her first time on a transatlantic flight but planes hadn’t changed that much since the war and her stomach settled soon enough. Peggy gave herself twenty minutes to enjoy the view before going back to work; she and Howard had a general plan already but there were still a few details to hash out.

After some discussion, Peggy and Daniel had decided to let the scientist fund this expedition rather than treating Steve’s retrieval as an official case. While the SSR had a vested interest in the captain’s body, Peggy wanted to ensure that he was treated with the respect that he deserved.

The man she knew had earned a quiet burial – no crowds of well-wishers, no expectations, no one digging up his corpse for the secrets in his blood. The government already had a monument to Captain America – a rather ghastly statue in Peggy’s opinion – and senators had used his name to promote everything from US war bonds to the army’s latest gun.

Thus, as far as the SSR was concerned, Peggy was on holiday. She and Howard Stark were flying to Europe for a reunion of old war buddies and indeed, they intended to pick up the surviving Howling Commandos on their way to Austria.

Although Dugan, Jones, and Morita were all American, the latter two had stayed in Europe once World War II was over and Dugan had always been too reckless for his own good. He’d got himself killed in Korea while doing something brave and stupid that had saved a score of lives. It was a fitting way for Dugan to be remembered but Peggy had still wept at his funeral and she was sorry that he couldn’t be here to see his captain found.

However, the rest of the Howling Commandos met Peggy and Howard in France when their plane landed to refuel. Peggy hadn’t seen most of these men since the war had ended and they’d all gone their separate ways. So the reunion was more emotional than she’d expected. The agent hugged her old friends tightly, trying not to dwell on the empty spaces where their missing men should be.

From France, the group flew on to Austria. Their plane landed in a tiny airport, the closest one that Howard could find to the place where Steve had fallen. Peggy planned to begin their search near the train tracks and then spread out from there; she hoped to find him quickly but she wasn’t counting on it. Who knew how far Steve’s body might have travelled in the last eight years?

So the search party stocked up with enough supplies to last a week before setting out into the mountains. Jones and Morita took the lead; the latter was the best with maps and only Jones had been on the train with Steve before he’d fallen to his doom.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Howard groaned when they stopped to take a break several hours later. “I knew I should have spent more time working on my jet-pack. How much farther do you think?”

“Maybe five miles?” Jones told him before pointing to the higher mountain slopes. “The train tracks run along those cliffs above us but I’m not sure exactly where they fell. We should probably keep a look out from now on.”

The group did just that but no one had seen any sign of Steve when night began to fall. So they set up their base camp near the point where the Howling Commandos had boarded Zola’s train. That seemed like a good location from which to start a proper search and while they could have camped rough, there was no reason for it; Howard needed somewhere to set up all his gear.

“What the devil is that thing?” Morita asked when the scientist pulled a small contraption from his pack. It looked similar to a radio but smaller and with dials that the soldier didn’t recognize. 

“It’s a metal detector,” Howard told him with a smirk. “Still a prototype but better than any other mobile detector on the market, I guarantee it. Once I get the battery charged, it should last at least six hours and help narrow down the search.”

“What kind of range are we talking?”

“A mile on a good day,” the scientist admitted. “And probably less out here. But at least we won’t have to search a hundred crevices by hand.”

“Leave the man alone. Of course it will be helpful,” Falsworth interrupted. "We didn't find Steve's shield on Zola's train so it probably fell when they did and even if Cap somehow lost it earlier, that would be a place to start. Hell, you know those old uniforms had enough metal in them to sink a battleship. Steve's outfit might ping that detector by itself."

“Fair point,” Jones agreed with a wry chuckle. “Sarge's coat did have an excess of brass buttons.”

“Right,” Stark replied. “Now that my genius has been proven once again, will you leave me to my work?”

“Come on, boys,” Peggy said. “You can help me with the tents. Unlike Mister Stark here, I don't plan to sleep with the machines.”

This comment received a chorus of agreement and several barks of laughter, chuckles turning to guffaws when the scientist called back, “I'd rather sleep out here than listen to Jones snore.”

The Howling Commandos had camp set up within the hour and Falsworth whipped together a decent meal from the supplies that they had brought. It was certainly much better than some of the rations that they'd eaten in the war.

The next morning, Peggy, Howard, and the other men began to scour the mountains for Steve’s body. This first full day of searching left their group exhausted, sore, and empty-handed, Stark's metal detector leading them only to rusted chunks of Zola's train. On the one hand, this wreckage was evidence that they were close to the site of Steve’s final struggle. But Peggy wasn't here for artefacts and after a full night's rest, the agent threw herself into the hunt again.


	3. Chapter 3

On the third day, Morita found a body and Peggy's heart leaped in her throat. But as soon as she saw the corpse, she knew this wasn’t Steve. The body was ravaged by wind and weather, most of the flesh torn free and eaten by wild animals, but the agent knew anyway. Because Steve had never and would never wear Hydra's symbol on his chest.

Somehow the skull-faced octopus had remained untarnished, the only bright spot amidst the rock and scattered snow. Although it was nearly summer, there was still snow on the highest peaks and ice in the deepest crevices, the frozen rivers making their search more difficult. Even the soldier's bones were covered in frost and Hydra's pin was cold enough to bite when Peggy picked it up. She put it in her pocket on an impulse that she could not explain, her hand gripping the pin in a tight fist as Dernier and Morita buried their former enemy. Peggy could not object to their actions even though she did not share their mercy, not when the scar of losing Steve was bleeding once again.

The agent wanted to talk to Daniel. Her husband always made the world seem brighter but even Stark didn't have a phone that could call New York from here. So Peggy had to settle for imagining what he might say instead.

“You don't know this soldier’s story,” her mental Daniel told her. “You don't know if he truly believed in Hydra's cause or if he was just a conscript that Zola sent to die and he probably left behind a family. Someone probably mourned him the way that you mourned Steve.”

Present or not, Daniel always made Peggy see a different side of things.

The agent still hated Hydra; that would never change. But when the commandos found another soldier, Peggy managed to find a shred of sympathy. She helped to bury this one, though not before collecting his Hydra pin as well. Once they found their prize, Peggy could tell the German government about the men lost in the Alps. Perhaps the army would know whose bodies were still missing and their loved ones did not need to know that they'd been Hydra when they died.

The Howling Commandos found a few more corpses, marking each grave with a symbol built of gathered stones. Each body was a sign that they were searching in the right direction and they would spend as long as it took to find their fallen friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick one. You'll get actual plot next time.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey! I think I've got something!” Stark shouted two days later when his detector beeped. “About a hundred yards up that way.”

“Probably just another piece of Zola's train.”

“I don't think so. It's smaller than the others and the composition's different.”

“So it's a smaller piece of Zola's train,” Falsworth retorted to general laughter but he and Peggy climbed up the cliff to check on Stark’s lead anyway.

Nearly summer or not, the mountain above them was half glacier, a thin sheet of dirt and water over ice. So it was slow going, steep and treacherous, and the agent made sure to tie her lead ropes tightly just in case. Indeed, Peggy was grateful for her training by the time they reached the upper ledge. This was the steepest climb she'd made so far and she never would have thought to check here if not for Stark's device. But when the agent started digging, she saw a flash of red.

“Was that-?” Falsworth asked, too overcome to say the words aloud. After Peggy nodded – her own throat just as choked up – he unclipped his rope and moved around her, dropping to his knees and digging from the other side.

Between the two of them, they uncovered their find quickly and Peggy's breath caught at the sight of Steve's old shield. The paint was chipped and scratched in several places, peeling off to show the metal underneath. But the agent would have recognized that symbol anywhere.

“It's wedged in here right proper,” Falsworth said, tugging on the shield as Peggy relayed the news to the others down below. “They must have hit the rocks at speed.”

Falsworth tugged a little harder and the shield moved slightly. So he braced his feet against the rocks and grabbed the handles of the shield before throwing all his weight into his next pull. One strap snapped in half but the other one held firm, giving Falsworth enough leverage to pull the item free.

“There we are,” he said, brushing snow and mud off metal.

“Any sign of Steve?” Peggy asked, glancing around the ledge. If Steve had fallen here, his body wasn't obvious.

“No, I don't... Shit!” Falsworth shouted as the ground underneath his feet began to crumble. He must have been standing on a hidden sheet of ice, one that had started to give way beneath his weight. Steve's shield slipped through his fingers as he lunged for his guide line. But Falsworth's jump missed by a mile and Peggy couldn't hope to catch his hand before he fell. 

So the agent threw the end of her line in desperation, praying that the anchor knots would hold. Peggy saw Falsworth grab the rope as he dropped out of sight and even though she braced herself, a sharp jerk on the guideline almost pulled her from her feet.

“You alive?” she called, dreading silence as the answer.

“Yeah, I'm all right,” Falsworth called back shakily. A few seconds later, he reappeared, pulling himself up onto the ledge carefully.

“Next time keep your damn rope clipped on,” Peggy said, her voice sharp with relief even as she gave him a hand. “I almost wasn't fast enough.”

“Don't worry, I think I learned my lesson,” the other Brit replied, putting words to action and tying on his rope again. “But I still need to climb down there; I couldn’t grab Cap’s shield.”

Peggy looked over the edge of the crevasse. The gap descended into shadow quickly and she couldn't tell how deep it was. But she thought that she could see the faintest hint of metal down below.

“I think we'll need more rope,” the agent told him. “And since I'm by far the lightest, it's probably best I go alone.”

She climbed back down the cliff to talk to the rest of their search party and soon she was ready to retrieve the shield again. Peggy just hoped that her rope would be long enough to reach the bottom of the ice.

“I think it's actually a glacier,” Stark corrected while Jones and Morita rolled their eyes. Jones would be joining Peggy and Falsworth at the top of the crevasse while the rest of the commandos stayed below. None of them were sure how well their radios would work once she descended and it seemed safer to have a couple spotters, Jones to back up Peggy and the other Brit to relay messages.

“All right, whenever you're ready,” Jones said after checking the agent's ropes again.

She set her feet against the edge and started inching downward step by step. The descent took all of Peggy's concentration, her boots threatening to slip on the icy wall despite their special tread. Indeed, the agent's fingers were already starting to go numb from gripping her rope so tightly and she worried that she would slip and lose control.

However, every time Peggy glanced down, Steve's shield was a little closer. The sight of her goal kept her moving despite the cold and tiredness; she refused to end her abseil early when they had come so far.

It felt like hours before her feet finally touched bottom. Peggy tested the ground carefully before putting her full weight onto the ice, not wanting another accident. But it seemed that this sheet of ice lay over stone instead of air. So the agent let herself relax a little, stretching out her shoulders and then leaning down to grab the shield.

“I'm at the bottom,” Peggy said into her radio, the line crackling with static before Jones answered her.

“Everything clear? Did you get Cap's shield?”

''I have it and I think it's safe to tie off; I'll loop my rope around the shield so that you can pull it up. Then drop th- oh my… Oh my _god_.”

“Carter, are you all right?”

Falsworth voice was insistent, his worry clear even through the bad connection. But the agent couldn't find the words to answer him. Peggy didn't have any words at all.

For when she had looked away from the wall, she’d discovered that the crevasse opened up into a small cavern and there she saw what she'd been searching for. There was Steve in all his glory, his body recognizable even in the gloom. Peggy would've recognized that outfit anywhere.

The agent had been expecting bones, although she hadn't wished to think about it, bones were logical. And yet, Steve looked exactly the way that she remembered; he could be sleeping if not for the layer of ice that covered his corpse from head to toe and Peggy felt her heart clench painfully.

He had been here the whole time - cold, forgotten, and alone. Or no, not alone. When she took a step closer, she realized that the dark patch next to Steve wasn't a shadow after all.

“Oh my God,” Peggy whispered. “That’s Sergeant Barnes.”

Somehow she'd managed to forget that the sergeant had disappeared on the same mission as his captain; her grief had been too focused on Steve Rogers to mourn the man’s best friend as well. In truth, she had liked Barnes well enough but she hadn’t really known him and his death had not affected her the same.

Even in Peggy's memories, the man was largely just his captain's shadow; she had rarely met the charmer that Steve so often talked about. Barnes had been grim and sarcastic in her presence – his jokes tinged with bitterness after he'd been captured – and as a shadow, it seemed almost natural that the sergeant had disappeared once Steve’s light was gone.

Peggy had forgotten Barnes but the Howling Commandos had remembered. Indeed, the agent realized now that they’d been looking for both the sergeant and their captain from the start. Because the others had talked in plurals – always plurals – and she'd just never questioned it. Peggy had assumed the choice of words was some weird quirk of American English when she'd noticed it at all and that casual dismissal sent a stab of shame through her chest when she thought about it now.

“Someone else had better get down here,” the agent said into her radio. “I found Steve. I found them _both._ ”

There was a garbled shout from the other end, the echoes of a cheer filtering down to Peggy's ears. About five minutes later, Morita dropped down beside her and his reaction to the sight of his old friends was no less heartfelt than the agent's own had been.

“Just bad damn luck,” he muttered, walking over to the bodies. “They must have hit that ridge just right to knock them both down here. Cap's shield probably saved them, kept them from dying at the impact. But even he couldn't have climbed that wall, not with a broken leg, and while he might have boosted Barnes up, the sergeant never was the sort to leave a man behind.”

“Broken?” Peggy asked. 

Morita nudged Steve's leg, drawing her attention to a rough splint around his thigh. A mix of cloth and sticks from the little she could see, the bits of wood probably left in this cavern by the wind. 

Morita didn't speak again but the huddled forms before them told the rest the story on their own. Steve and Barnes pressing close for warmth, hoping to last long enough for the captain's leg to heal and give them both the chance of getting out. Falling asleep shivering and just never waking up, hidden from both searchers and the warm touch of the sun.

On the one hand, Peggy was glad for the ice, the cold that allowed them to find their friends intact rather than bones or partial corpses. She didn't know if she could have handled the sight of Steve like that. And yet the agent cursed the vagaries of fate as well; if the captain's luck had only been a little different, both these men might still be alive right now. Indeed, Steve was so well-preserved that Peggy almost expected her former love to open up his eyes.

“Come on. Let's bring them out of here,” Morita told Peggy quietly. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. When Morita tried to move Steve's body, he discovered that their friends were frozen solid to each other and the ground where they had lain. Freeing Steve and Barnes without any further damage required several hours of hard labour, Peggy and the others working in shifts to avoid getting frostbite from the cold. 

Only when Steve and Barnes had been carved from the ice together could Howard rig up a harness and a pulley in order to lift their bodies out. Even then manoeuvring two frozen corpses from the crevice was an exercise in angles and Peggy honestly wasn't sure how she could have done it without every person there. She was terrified of dropping Steve the entire time, terrified to lose him now that she had found him, and she didn't breathe easily until he and Barnes were resting on solid earth again.

Once everyone had packed up their equipment, the group set out with their prize, the trek back to their camp-site taking much longer then the journey there. Steve and Barnes were an awkward weight to carry even with all six of them around their makeshift sling. However, despite several close calls, they managed to bring their friends back safely and Stark called Jarvis to retrieve them early the next day.


	5. Chapter 5

Soon Peggy, Stark, and the others were on a plane back to the states, their hard won prize packed away on ice inside the hold. Smuggling two bodies into the country was surprisingly easy – Stark's endless fortune the difference between a quick wave through customs and reams of paperwork.

The sealed case that held their friends was wheeled from the plane without an issue and the Howling Commandos loaded it into the lorry that Stark had purchased special while the other man made a few quick calls. Then Jarvis climbed into the front seat and drove them to the scientist’s main laboratory, the building located near New York’s waterfront for safety when experiments went bad.

The inside of the laboratory was cavernous and empty, even the security guards given the night off. Secrecy was paramount in the commandos’ mission; only secrecy would allow Captain America to rest in peace when there were so many who would wish to claim his body for the power in his blood. The fewer who knew of his recovery the better and the commandos intended to prepare their friends for burial themselves.

Indeed, Peggy planned to guard Steve until he was safely buried; she didn't trust Stark not to take some samples of the captain's flesh or blood. Given the choice, she preferred to have that information in his hands than Hydra's, but she thought it would be better for Erskine's serum to simply disappear. In her experience, the serum made monsters just as easily as heroes and few men were as good as Steve at heart.

So the agent helped the others move Steve and Barnes into the laboratory and then took up her vigil. Although they had managed to separate their friends at this point, careful to rip cloth instead of skin, the bodies still needed to thaw further before they'd fit inside their coffins easily. That would probably take at least a couple hours and until then Howard had better keep his syringes to himself.

The rest of the Howling Commandos were quick to back up Peggy when the scientist starting bringing out equipment and she was forced to make her position clear. They'd seen the damage that one truly evil man with Erskine's power could wreck upon the world.

“Just a few quick tests?” Stark wheedled, never one to give in easily. “You can even destroy the samples afterwards.”

“No,” Peggy told him flatly. “One small vial of Steve's blood killed half a dozen people. If word gets out that you so much as touched Steve's body, I give you five days to live.”

“I suppose that's a fair point,” the scientist admitted, his zeal for discovery dampened momentarily at the thought of dying horribly. But only for a moment. Nothing could keep Howard Stark from tinkering for long.

“What about something less invasive?” he asked a minute later. “I have a new body scanner that I've been dying to try out.”

“Fine,” Peggy sighed. A few images probably couldn't hurt and at least his machinery would keep Stark engaged for a few hours. “I figure we have about three hours until they're thawed enough to bury so you had best work fast.”

“Yes!” Stark crowed triumphantly before running off into his lab.

Peggy asked Morita to keep an eye on him, trusting the other man to watch the scientist while she took a short break. The agent didn't mean to fall asleep after she used the water closet but she woke to Falsworth shaking her lightly by the arm.

“Wake up! Stark wants to talk to you. He thinks that Steve's alive!”

“What?” Peggy exclaimed, snapping upright as soon as his words registered. “That's impossible!”

“I know,” Falsworth told her. “But he said it. And he seems dead serious.”

Indeed, Stark was standing by Steve's body with the other commandos when Falsworth and Peggy returned to the laboratory, the scientist pointing at his scan and gesticulating wildly.

“What is going on?” Peggy asked as she pushed her way to the front. “Steve died eight years ago.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling you he didn't,” Howard replied, his expression a mix of glee and sheer astonishment. “Erskine's serum is even more impressive than I thought. Rogers isn't dead; he's just been hibernating. I think the cold sent him into a state of suspended animation and now he's coming back to life again. My scan picked up a heartbeat, Carter, and brain activity. No corpse would have those things.”

“What about Barnes?” the agent asked. She wasn't ready to believe Stark but she was teetering and she didn't want Steve to wake up in a world where his best friend was dead. He would never forgive himself for surviving when the sergeant hadn’t even if there was nothing that he could have done to save his life.

“Oh, I didn't test him,” the scientist told Peggy with a shrug. “He was never enhanced and a normal man could never live that long.”

“You should scan the sergeant,” Jones said after glancing at the other Howling Commandos. 

“But why? He's not...?”

“Just do it,” Falsworth ordered.

“If you insist,” Stark replied, rolling his eyes with a sigh. He wheeled his equipment over to the other man and began to set it up. “I don't know why you're so insistent though. We all liked Barnes and I'm sad as hell that he's dead, but I'm not going to find anyth-”

“Well,” Jones asked when the other man fell silent. “Is he alive or not?”

“I think he is,” Stark muttered, staring at his scan intently. “There isn't as much activity as Rogers but there's definitely something. How did you know? Steve alone is a damn miracle.”

The remaining Howling Commandos traded another set of glances, a silent discussion passing plainly in front of Peggy's eyes. But she couldn’t guess its meaning until Morita finally shrugged.

“Barnes was never quite the same after Hydra captured us. We didn't have any solid proof and he wouldn't see a medic, but he shrugged off injuries that should have knocked him flat,” the man explained. “He was the only one of us who came close to keeping up with Steve.”

“I suppose that does make sense. If Zola was trying to recreate Erskine's serum then maybe he gave Barnes a knock-off version,” the scientist muttered to himself. “Not as strong as Rogers' maybe, but enough to keep him in the same suspended state until we tracked their bodies down.”

“And what will happen now? Once they're thawed will they wake up or simply perish eight years later than they would have otherwise?” Peggy asked.

“Honestly, Carter. I have no idea,” Stark told her flatly. “I've never seen anything like this. The best I can do is let them thaw completely and see what happens then. We might as well move them both to my house while we wait.”

“That seems like a good idea. Cap and Sarge would be more comfortable waking up in a bed than on a table. They don't need to relive those memories,” Jones said and no one disagreed.

So the scientist hooked up a couple sensors to monitor their vitals and then the Howling Commandos loaded their unconscious friends back into Stark's vehicle. Peggy had often given the scientist grief for living so close to his workplace but tonight that worked out in their favour. The group arrived at the scientist's house less than twenty minutes later, the sky just beginning to lighten to the east.

Jarvis pulled the car into the garage and closed the door behind them. Although Peggy hadn't seen anyone watching the house, it was always better to be careful and the agent often felt as though there were spies hidden everywhere. The Howling Commandos carried their captain and sergeant inside the building, setting them up in adjacent rooms on the second floor.

Then it was back to waiting, most of them sleeping in shifts while Stark drank a pot of coffee in order to stay up. He wanted to monitor every second of the change and he would likely take a ream of notes before the day was done.

Peggy took this time to make a quick call to her husband, more than ready to hear Daniel's voice again. She told him that she had returned and her mission was successful, though she probably wouldn't make it home before the evening meal.

“Don’t worry about me,” her husband told her. “I miss you, love, but I know this is important. Do right by the captain and then come back to me.”

“I will. Thank you,” Peggy said before hanging up the telephone. She still wasn't sure what she'd done to earn such understanding but she was grateful for it as she returned to her vigil once again.

The agent had chosen not to mention Steve's miraculous recovery and while she told herself that conversation was best had in person, this wasn’t the only reason for her silence. In truth, Peggy found the thought of her old and new lives colliding strangely terrifying and she didn't know what would happen now. She couldn't know until Steve finally woke.


	6. Chapter 6

“Peggy? You in here?”

“I’m here. What do you need?” she asked, looking up at Jones over her second cup of tea.

“Cap is starting to wake up and we thought he’d want to see you first.”

“And the sergeant?”

“Still unconscious but Stark says he's looking stronger so it shouldn't be too long.”

“Good,” Peggy replied, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before going to Steve's room. Jones had been keeping watch inside and he opened up the door when the agent knocked.

“You're just in time; he’s been stirring for a while,” he told Peggy, waving her into the room. “Take as long as you need. The rest of us will keep Stark busy till you're done; his tests can wait an hour and I know Rogers will be damn glad to see you now.”

Jones left the room before Peggy could respond and that was just as well. She would be glad to speak with Steve, glad to know that he would be all right after being frozen for so long and yet... Peggy shook off the flash of doubt and sat down at Steve’s bedside. She took his hand between her own, hoping to keep him from panicking when he woke up somewhere strange.

“You're okay now,” she murmured quietly. “I've got you, Steve. We found you. You're safe from everyone.”

The agent kept on talking for several minutes before Steve suddenly snapped awake, his eyes wild as he glanced around the room.

“I- Peggy?” the blond asked, his voice rough from disuse. “Where am I? I don't remember... We fell and... Bucky! Did he survive?”

“Your friend is fine,” Peggy reassured him gently, hoping that time would not prove her words a lie. “Sergeant Barnes is resting in another room.”

“Good, that's good,” Steve replied. His panicked strength seemed to leave him then and he slumped back on the bed. “How did you find us, Pegs? Our radios were broken and we fell so far. I thought we'd have to hump our way back to camp ourselves.”

Steve trailed off with a weary grin, his smile just as bright and beautiful as the agent had remembered. For a moment, Peggy allowed herself to forget everything that had happened in the years since their first meeting. There was just Steve, his smile and the life they could have had. But then that smile dimmed.

His fingers had caught on Peggy's wedding ring where their hands were linked together and he looked up at the agent with confusion in his eyes.

“Peggy? I don't... we didn't, did we?”

“No, we didn't,” she answered softly, her heart aching in her chest. “It's... It's been a long time, Steve. The war ended almost ten years past and we weren’t expecting to find you still alive. We only meant to bring your body home.”

Steve didn't say anything at first. He just stared at Peggy, his gaze cataloguing every change, every difference from the woman he had known.

“So... the war is over then? Did we win?” he asked.

“Yes, Steve. We won,” Peggy told him. 

The agent could almost see the gears of Steve’s mind spinning, trying and failing to believe that the fight was truly done. The move from war to peace had been hard enough for those who saw it coming and even Peggy had sometimes struggled to make the change herself. The shock of losing a whole decade would be enough to make a grown man weep.

Yet Steve had always been stronger than most people gave him credit for and he didn't ask any of the obvious questions. He didn't ask the agent about the future or the war or how she could have given up on their love so easily.

Instead, Steve looked Peggy in the eye and murmured, “You're happy now? With him?”

The pain on the blond's face made her want to tell him no, to run away together and leave the life she'd built behind. But she had never lied to Steve before and when she thought of Daniel, there was only one reply.

“Yes, I am happy,” Peggy said and she truly meant it, even if she hadn't been certain of her answer until now. She would always love Steve at least a little but Daniel was far from being a consolation prize.

“That's... that's good, Pegs. I'm glad that you've found joy,” Steve replied and it sounded like goodbye. It sounded like regret, grief, and the sharp pain of missed chances, and suddenly Peggy didn't feel as though she had the right to sit here at his bedside anymore.

“I'll tell the others you're awake,” she said, standing up again. “I know they'll want to see you while you still have the time. Once everyone finds out that you're alive, it will probably be a circus. Captain America was sorely missed in the years that you've been gone.”

This was the wrong thing to say. Peggy knew that even as she said it but that didn't stop the words from spilling out. She could only watch them hit Steve like a punch and she felt even guiltier when she saw him flinch.

Although the captain tried to smile, his heart just wasn’t in it. Steve's expression was much closer to a grimace and Peggy truly wished that she could make things better. She didn't want to lose Steve and she hoped that in the future, they could be friends again. But Steve wasn't hers to comfort any longer and if she stayed right now, she'd only remind him of the life that could have been.

So the agent made herself scarce as Stark and the surviving Howling Commandos gathered around Steve's bedside. They would take care of their captain and their sergeant, Peggy didn't doubt that, and she just couldn't be here anymore.

Peggy had a life of her own that she needed to return to. She had a job and a husband she loved dearly and it was time for the agent to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one hates Peggy too much for this.


	7. Part II: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn't sure what to do with himself anymore.

When Steve had reached for Bucky and they'd fallen, he’d honestly thought that both of them would die. Surviving the landing with nothing but some bruises and a broken leg had seemed a miracle and he’d planned to rejoin the war as soon as they hiked out. The captain had gone to sleep thinking about the Red Skull, huddled next to Bucky to escape the winter cold. 

Steve had closed his eyes in 1945 but he woke up in a world that he didn't recognize. Suddenly Captain America was MIA, World War II was over, and his best girl had gotten married to someone who wasn’t him.

The blond had been prepared to marry Peggy. He’d been ready to have and to hold and someday grow old together, and while he couldn't hate her for moving on, he almost wanted to. Because it didn't feel like eight years had passed since they made their promises; it felt like Steve had woken up and found the world askew. Nothing was the same – not Peggy, not his friends, not even New York City – and he couldn’t shake the fear of losing yet another decade when he closed his eyes again.

The only familiar thing in Steve's life now was Bucky – the other man had always been his constant and that at least was still the same. The brunet was a solid presence at his side while they recovered in Stark's guest room, cracking jokes and telling stories when his captain’s spirits dimmed.

If Bucky shared Steve’s unease, he never seemed to show it and the captain was extremely grateful to have the company. Even with the serum, a broken leg took time to heal and he would have gone stir crazy stuck on his own for weeks. Peggy had left after that first awkward conversation and while the Howling Commandos stayed a few days longer, eventually they needed to return to their own lives.

Soon Steve and Bucky were left alone with Howard, the other man popping by periodically to poke them with machines. The scientist was completely fascinated by his friends’ survival and he tended to burst in at odd hours with some new test idea, his butler trailing after him with profuse apologies.

As annoying as it was, it was also very Howard and Steve was actually grateful for the sense of normalcy. Stark might have gotten older but he wasn’t any wiser to social niceties. Or perhaps he was since he had a knack for showing up just when the captain’s dreams went dark. The scientist saved Steve from half a dozen nightmares and on the nights that Stark woke him up from a dead sleep, he couldn’t fail to notice that Bucky’s face was often drawn instead.

Howard never said anything about the nightmares; he would just break into a mass of technobabble that wiped away all thought. The blond wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but even if he wasn’t, the scientist showed his friendship in other ways as well. He let Bucky and Steve stay in his house for weeks without complaining, making sure that they were comfortable while the blond’s leg finished mending. Howard used his connections to get Bucky a medical discharge from the army so that the sergeant could hide his newfound healing factor without any awkward questions. He secured Steve a new identity as America's look-alike first cousin and made sure that both soldiers would be able to collect the back pay owed.

Neither man would have to worry about working for at least a couple years and Steve was grateful for the leeway to figure out what he should do. During his convalescence, the captain considered telling everyone that he hadn't truly perished; he considered rejoining the SSR and picking his shield back up again.

But Hitler and the Red Skull were defeated. World War II was over and while Steve knew there would be more – another war had already claimed Dugan – he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep fighting anymore. The only thing he knew for certain was that the US government would never let him live in peace if it knew that he was here. Even Peggy wouldn’t be able to stop the SSR from turning Steve into a mascot or a lab rat and he couldn't go back to being a dancing monkey now. 

The blond needed something different, a life of his own choosing, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do anything. Thinking about the future left Steve in a paralyzed terror of indecision, his courage overwhelmed by endless possibility.

He was lost adrift in a world that had kept moving on without him, and if not for Bucky, he might have stayed in Howard’s mansion until he finally wore his welcome out. But the sergeant wanted to break the news of their survival to his family in person and he was determined to drag Steve along as soon as they were cleared. The blond tried to protest, his arguments ranging from not ruining the moment to the need for secrecy but his friend just rolled his eyes. 

“Don't be an idiot. You know you're family too,” Bucky told him and that was the end of that. Steve couldn't bring himself to argue when the brunet had been his family for a long, long time. 

So despite his misgivings, Steve soon found himself standing next to Bucky on his family’s front porch. The other man knocked on the door and then they stood there waiting, trying not to fidget awkwardly. Bucky was clearly nervous and the blond’s own back was itching as though still on the battlefield. Steve kept glancing back at their surroundings – every person walking by carefully scrutinized – and he actually jumped a little when Mrs. Barnes opened up the door.

“Hello, ma,” Bucky said quietly. “It’s been a long time.”

“James? Are you- ? This can’t be real,” his mother whispered and for a second, Steve was worried that she would faint right there.

“Ma, it's really me,” Bucky told her, reaching out to touch her hand. When their fingers met, Mrs. Barnes gasped audibly before lurching forward to throw herself in Bucky's arms. He pulled her close and held her gently, murmuring words of comfort as she cried against his chest. Steve could hear his friend’s voice cracking and he felt a little awkward as he tried not to listen in. But he couldn't block the words completely and when Mrs. Barnes finally pulled away, she wasn't the only one wiping at her eyes.

“I can't believe you're here. I can't...” Bucky's mother trailed off with another sniff as her son handed her a handkerchief. She took it with a watery smile, dabbing at her eyes once more before remembering her manners and ushering both men inside.

“Come in. Come in. Where have you been? How is this possible?” she asked, her hands fluttering over Bucky's shoulders like she still couldn't believe that he was here. “And who's your friend, I don't rec- _Stevie?!_ Is that you?”

“In the flesh, ma'am,” Steve replied, ducking his head bashfully. He wasn’t sure whether he should hug Bucky’s mother like he used to or just tip his hat instead. But Mrs. Barnes was having none of that.

“Get down here, you silly boy,” she ordered and at that Steve had to laugh. He felt ten years old again as he leaned in so she could hug him, returning her embrace carefully.

“Look at you! You're so tall. I guess you really did it; you joined the army and let them turn you into this,” Mrs. Barnes said, looking the blond up and down. “Sarah always said that you were Captain America, but my James and I were never sure. Rogers isn't the rarest name and my boy's letters were so censored; it just seemed impossible.”

“I know what you mean, ma'am. Sometimes I think I'm dreaming and I'm the one who lived it,” Steve told Bucky's mother with a crooked grin. “But that was me in all the movies. Sarah was right.”

“She was, ma, but if anyone asks then this isn't that Steve Rogers,” Bucky interrupted, his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Stark got me a medical discharge but the army would probably draft this guy right back into service if they found out he's alive. Better to keep him as a cousin until we sort out everything.”

“Of course, James, don’t worry. You both did your duty and we’ll keep Steve’s secret now,” Mrs. Barnes replied. “You don’t need to worry about the neighbors either. No one here likes the draft when so many of our sons were dragged off to war unwilling and came back hurt or not at all. The government has gotten enough blood and tears from us already. We grieved for you those years that you were gone.”

“I know, ma, I’m sorry. We would have come back sooner if we could,” Bucky told her. “But we’re here now and I want to know what's happened since we both left Brooklyn. Tell me everything.”

He gave his mother a flash of his old smile, that crooked grin he always used sweet talking, and Mrs. Barnes was happy to oblige. She sat her boys at the kitchen table and fed them like she used to, plying them with bread and bowls of stew. 

While they ate, Bucky’s mother passed on eight years of gossip, ranging from the personal: “Your sister is engaged to a nice boy. They're getting married in two months and she’ll be thrilled to have you there.” - to the general: “This borough is changing. Too many good men died in the war and people just don't talk to each other anymore.”

When her voice grew tired, Steve and Bucky started speaking about the war instead. Both men glossed over the worst of it – the mud and cold and killing – but they told her about some missions and explained what happened to make them MIA. Between the three of them, they talked on for hours until James Barnes Sr. came back from work again. At that point, they had to repeat their explanations and for the first time in his memory, Steve saw Bucky’s father cry. The older man wept without shame as he hugged his son close, holding him tightly before embracing Steve as well. 

In this moment, the blond forgot his regrets and worries for the future. He may have lost the life that he’d been planning but Bucky and his family deserved this happiness. Steve would always want to give his best friend everything.

“You're more than welcome to stay here until you find your feet again,” Mr. Barnes told them once the furor had died down. “And Sarah will want to see you when she comes back for the weekend.”

“We’ve put some storage in your old room but I could fix it up real quick,” Mrs. Barnes added. “It might be a little crowded, but we’d find the space for you.”

The offer was kind but Steve couldn’t accept it; he’d imposed on Bucky’s folks too much throughout the years. However, before he could tell his friend to go ahead without him, the other man spoke up.

“You don't have to do that. Stark managed to swing it so that we both got our back pay and there's enough for an apartment. We'll get a place together until we both find jobs,” Bucky told his parents. “You should focus on Sarah's wedding. My little sister is getting married and we've got to send her off in style.”

“Are you sure, James? You know she wouldn't mind.”

“That's why I'm minding for her. Really, ma, we'll manage. We're both grown men and we can look out for ourselves.”

“If you insist, boys. But you're staying here for dinner and I expect you back each week,” Bucky's mother ordered. “I won’t have you disappearing from our lives again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Steve and Bucky chorused and the pair was good on their word. They stayed for dinner before returning to Stark's mansion and although they found their own place a few days later, they still went back to the Barnes’ house regularly. Steve felt almost human sitting with Bucky, Sarah, and their parents, laughing at each other’s jokes and trading stories from before. Here he could pretend that they had never gone to war.


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky got a job as soon as he was able. The brunet couldn’t find anything too fancy with his lack of schooling, but he had plenty of experience working at the docks and he wanted to give his back pay to his family for as long as possible. Bucky had always doted on his little sister and with her wedding looming, he was working double shifts.

Steve was happy for his friend and yet he also hated it. As soon as he saw Bucky off each morning, he was left to his own devices, not even a paper route to distract him from his thoughts. A job might have helped, something to give him purpose so he didn't sit here wallowing. But Steve didn’t need to work – for once in his life, he didn’t need the money – and he couldn’t seem to find the motivation. He just kept thinking about Peggy, the war, and all the time that he had lost.

So he was always home when Howard called to check in, asking Steve how he and Bucky were adjusting to their lives. 

“Tell me if I can assist in any way or you start feeling poorly,” the scientist would tell him. “I still don't know if being frozen will have strange side effects. And if you do decide to serve again, make sure to call me first. We'd want to spin the media.”

The blond knew Howard meant it as a kindness and he was grateful for the friendship. But he couldn't take that offer. He just put off the other man with platitudes and promised he was fine. Steve did the same when letters from the other Howling Commandos started to arrive. He could barely bring himself to read them – he made Bucky do it for him – and he never told the truth in his replies. Steve felt pathetic and useless and he didn't want the other men to worry. He didn't want them to know how weak he truly was.

The letter from Peggy was the worst. He stared at the envelope for an hour, hoping that she'd changed her mind and terrified she hadn't. Steve knew she loved her husband – he had seen that when she told him – and logically he knew that she wouldn't up and leave. But some part of him kept wishing and even though he truly missed her friendship, his heart just couldn't take the thought of seeing her right now. 

In the end, Steve burned the letter without even reading it and then stayed in bed for three days straight. He didn't even move when Bucky came home, could barely bring himself to eat. Not when the whole world seemed grey and heavy and the blond felt like he was drowning in a sea of apathy.

It was a mix of guilt and hunger that finally drove him from his room. He put on a brave face and actually cooked dinner and the shadows eased a little at the relief in Bucky's eyes.

Steve could have talked to him and tried to sort his head out – of course he could have, this was _Bucky_ \- but he wasn't supposed to need his friend to fix him anymore. The serum was supposed to make Steve independent; it was supposed to make him better and after so many years of trying to prove that he could stand on his own, the blond just couldn't ask.

Bucky had always been the one to make the first move. Bucky had always been the one to knock him from his brooding but the more time passed, the clearer it became that Steve was not the only one who wasn't coping well.

The brunet was more subtle about it. He bitched about his job and complained about Steve’s cooking, but both those things were normal. Bucky never seemed to mind the years that he was missing and slipped into his new life easily. 

However, when Steve woke from screaming nightmares and stumbled into the kitchen, nine times out of ten, he'd find Bucky was sitting there. The brunet would be at their dining table, his eyes full of shadows and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

The other man was never drunk then. Bucky hadn’t been able to get drunk after Zola, his new tolerance to alcohol just one more thing that they didn’t talk about. Steve had noticed at the time but he’d forced the issue and he didn't speak up now. Instead, the two men sat in silence, trading whiskey back and forth when they had enough to share.

Every time he took a swig, the blond would look at Bucky and feel a thousand questions crawling up his throat. Steve wanted to know how his friend did it - how he kept going every morning without something driving him. Steve wanted to know if Bucky’s head was filled with doubts and demons just like his was, if the brunet ever looked at him and saw a stranger, and if that was why the other man wouldn’t tell him anything.

Because if Steve were being honest, Bucky had been different ever since he found him in Azzano, his easy smiled splintered into broken shards instead. Bucky had still asked how he was doing and fretted himself silly over every injury, but he’d refused to let his captain worry in return. He gave and gave and never let Steve help him, and that much still hadn’t changed.

Bucky’s mask was almost perfect beneath the light of day. His smile was still charming and his humor just as filthy as it had been before. He asked the blond about his day like it really mattered and he couldn’t hide his worry when the answer was fuck all.

It would have been so easy to let him keep pretending. Steve and Bucky had gotten through the war like that just fine.

Except they hadn’t, had they? How could Steve believe the act after watching the other man down whiskey shots like water for hours at a time? Bucky was clearly hurting and he wanted to help; he wanted to support him the way he’d always been supported in return.

But the blond had no idea how to start that conversation. Steve could hardly give his friend advice when his own life was in shambles. Bucky might be trying to drink away his nightmares, but at least he was functional. At least he was doing something with his life. Not only that, but he was _still_ trying to help Steve with his problems and thinking about that just made the blond feel guiltier. 

If Bucky had succeeded in making him feel better, who's to say he would have noticed how the other man was bleeding. Maybe Steve would have gone running toward a bright new future while his best friend just imploded quietly. 

He didn’t know the answer. Steve only knew that Bucky was his rock and now that rock was cracking while he stood by helplessly. Sometimes he felt like they were still falling from Zola’s train, like he’d jumped too late and Bucky was slipping through his fingers bit by bit again


	9. Chapter 9

“You need a suit for Sarah's wedding,” Bucky said on Sunday as he looked Steve up and down. 

“I have a suit,” he protested automatically, but the brunet just rolled his eyes.

“You mean the one that barely fit you back when you were five feet tall or the one that looked like you'd been spit on by a flag?” Bucky asked with a smirk. “You know my folks are going to expect something a bit more traditional and this is my little sister here. I'm not letting you near the wedding party unless you're dressed to the nines.”

“You gonna make me shine my shoes too?” Steve retorted, his lips curling in a grin. 

“You know it, punk. I'll even spot you a nickel to buy a snazzy hat.”

“I'll hold you to that offer,” the blond told him. “Don't think I won't, you jerk.”

Steve did in fact buy a suit as ordered, complete with hat as well. However, Bucky was the one who set up the fitting for him and he gave Steve his marching orders on his way out the door. The blond looked at Bucky’s note with apprehension, eyeing the piece of paper like a live hand grenade.

He hadn't gone outside in several days at that point and the tailor was farther from the apartment than he'd been in weeks. The only reason Steve actually managed to leave for his appointment was because he’d promised Bucky and he felt like running back to safety the whole time. 

The blond was afraid of being recognized by either fans or enemies; he wasn’t sure which scared him more. So he hunched deep into his jacket and pulled his hat low on his face, trying not to startle at the traffic rushing by. Steve felt stupid for flinching at loud noises when he knew he wasn't shell-shocked; he simply couldn’t be. The serum had made him stronger. It had turned Steve’s broken body into something superhuman and he had no right to be so anxious, not when the war had ruined so many other lives.

Honestly, no one would expect Captain America to be wandering around the streets of Brooklyn anyway. Not when he’d been MIA for a decade and the truth of Erskine's serum was still completely classified.

Even the tailor didn't realize that Steve was that Steve Rogers, not even the faintest flicker of recognition in the old man’s eyes. However, while the blond probably should have found the tailor’s indifference comforting, he only felt more lost instead. Because if no one saw a hero when they looked at him – if no one saw Captain America – then who the hell was Steve supposed to be?

As soon as his appointment was over, the blond ran back to his apartment and hid himself away from the outside world again. He didn’t leave again for days, only heading out to buy essentials when he had no other choice. Even then, Steve barely managed to dress like a real person and he knew that Bucky was growing more and more worried every day. He tried to act normal around the brunet but life just seemed so difficult and if not for Sarah’s wedding, he might have slept until the spring.

For Bucky and his sister, Steve dragged himself out of bed and took an actual shower. He washed his hair and shaved his beard before pulling on his brand new suit. It fit him well – much better than his old one – and he settled the jacket on his shoulders before grabbing his tie and trilby and joining Bucky out in the hall.

Steve's breath caught when his friend turned to greet him; the other man looked... he seemed... it was good to see him looking well. Bucky had put on his own suit and made a trip out to the barber; he seemed almost like the charming man who'd been sent off to war.

“Not bad,” the brunet said, looking Steve up and down. “I was wondering if the tailor would run out of fabric trying to cover those wide shoulders, but it seems he did all right.”

Bucky chuckled when he flushed, stepping closer to grab the tie out of his hand.

“Still haven't learned to handle one of these?” the other man asked as he looped the tie around Steve's neck. “I thought every self-respecting hero could tie their own cravat.”

“Of course not; that's what we have sidekicks for,” the blond retorted and Bucky barked a laugh. His friend was standing so close that Steve could feel his chuckle and he couldn't help a shiver in response.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, straightening his tie before stepping back to check his handiwork. But the blond just shook his head.

“It's nothing,” Steve told him. He didn't know how to say, “It's so good to see you smile,” without sounding like a sap. 

Indeed, the brunet beamed throughout the ceremony, watching Sarah proudly as she spoke her wedding vows. His sister’s face was radiant as she stood at the altar and Steve was truly happy for her; he was pleased for everyone in Bucky's family.

Yet seeing Sarah in her dress also made him think of Peggy and he found his good mood fading bit by bit. Steve couldn't help imagining how beautiful she must have looked when she had gotten married, stood before the world and wed a man who wasn't him. He found himself wondering if Bucky would have smiled just as widely at his wedding and whether the blond would ever be able to find out.

Bucky was bound to find a dame eventually but Steve didn't know how he'd ever replace Peggy in his heart. The thought was a dark cloud dampening his evening and when the reception started, he found himself a quiet table where he could brood in peace.

The blond nursed a single glass of champagne while Mrs. Barnes cried tears of joy and Mr. Barnes gave the longest toast he’d ever heard. He watched as Sarah and her new husband danced the first waltz together, clearly so in love it almost hurt, and he felt a tinge of worry when Bucky started to drink his own weight in alcohol. The other man kept glancing at him – his frown growing deeper whenever Steve still hadn’t moved. 

Bucky didn’t look like he believed the blond’s fake smile and Steve half expected his friend to call him out right now. But every time the brunet started toward him, he kept getting caught up in the celebration and he never would have ruined Sarah’s party anyway.

So it was close to midnight before Bucky stumbled over, sitting down next to Steve and knocking their shoulders together with a sigh.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked and Steve’s reply probably sounded a little too relieved. Indeed, when they finally flagged down a cab to take them back to their apartment, Bucky looked at him and said, “You did have a good time, right? I'd hate to think we Barneses threw a shitty party.”

“Of course, I did,” Steve told him quickly but even drunk the brunet knew him too damn well.

“If you didn't want to come...”

“Bucky, this was Sarah's wedding. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” Whatever his other feelings, Steve truly meant the words and Bucky's smile softened visibly.

“My little sister's all grown up,” he said. “I'm glad we made it back in time.”

The other man didn't say anything else, leaving Steve to brood in silence as he leaned his head against the window of the taxi with a sigh. Neither man spoke again before reaching their apartment and trudging up the stairs together. Bucky was as close to drunk as he had been in years and the blond was so exhausted that he might have been as well. If he’d been more awake, Steve might have realized that his friend was thinking hard on something, but instead he just said goodnight and crashed down on his bed.

So the blond was completely blindsided when he was eating breakfast the next morning and Bucky sat down across from him.

“I can't do this anymore,” his best friend said tiredly.

Steve dropped his spoon with a clatter, a panicked, _Please don't leave me,_ running through his head. 

“What do you mean, Buck?” he whispered. “What is it?”

“I can't keep pretending that both of us are fine.”

“But we ar-”

“Steve, I've heard you screaming and I know you've heard me too,” the other man interrupted. “You barely leave this apartment and when you do, you come back shaking. You don't think that I notice, but I do. I know you just lost Peggy and I don't expect you to forget her; you don't forget a dame like that. But you spent six hours yesterday pretending you weren’t miserable at my little sister’s wedding. You’re always pretending so that you don’t disappoint me and I need for you to stop.”

Bucky paused, slumping down in his chair as he looked right at Steve. His eyes were dark – pained and far too desperate – and the blond couldn't even begin to think of what to say.

“Fuck, Stevie, don't you know that you could do anything? You could go to art school like you always wanted; we've got the money now. Be an artist or a teacher or a copper if you want to as long as you do _something_. You're my best friend, Stevie, and I can't just watch you waste away. I'm not gonna leave you, I promised, but it'll break my goddamn heart.”

He sounded utterly defeated when he finished and somehow that gave Steve back his voice again.

“But what about you?” the blond burst out and now it was Bucky's turn to gape. “You want me to admit that I'm not okay? Fine. I am _not_ okay. I'm afraid to sleep in case I lose another decade and when I try, I wake up anyway. I feel useless all the time and I don't know what I'm doing, I only know that I don't want to fight other people anymore. But if I'm not okay then I know that you're not either. You're right, Bucky, I've heard you screaming and I sure as hell haven't been drinking all that whiskey by myself. We both came back different and I'm not the only one who's throwing his life away right now.”

“Hey, at least I've got a job,” the other man protested but Steve just cut him off.

“The same dock you've been working since you dropped out of high school,” he said with a hint of his old fire. Steve might not have a clue about his future but if he could get through to Bucky, that was well worth fighting for.

“I know you don't want to work down at the docks forever. You never wanted to work there in the first place and if your dad hadn't gotten sick that summer... don't you remember, Bucky? You had such dreams when we were kids.”

“Kids grow up, Stevie.”

“Maybe. And I'm not saying that you should have chosen different. But you're smart, Buck. You always were,” Steve told him. “Honestly, Captain America wouldn't have been half as effective without that crash course that you gave me in applied geometry. You had the plans, Bucky; all I did was listen and if I can go to college, why not you?”

“I'm not much for school, pal. You know that. I prefer to learn hands on,” his friend replied. But he didn't sound as hopeless and at least he was listening.

“So learn a trade. Learn to fix those ships you've been unloading or see if Howard's lab might have an opening. You always gave him good suggestions when he was working on our gear.”

Steve could see the brunet wavering and he went in for the kill. “Look, I'll make you a deal. Just give it a try. Try to find a job you like as much as I like drawing, one you actually look forward to on most days instead of one that drives you crazy bit by bit. Give it your best shot and I promise that I'll go to college if you want.”

The blond watched Bucky nervously as his friend considered his proposal. All his cards were on the table; he had no more arguments to offer and he wasn't sure what he would do if Bucky still said no. But eventually the other man just sighed.

“All right. If this mad plan will get you to finally go to art school then I guess we have a deal. I’ll give Stark a call even though he probably has a dozen better people on his payroll,” Bucky told Steve quietly. “I can't make any promises but I know we need to change things. Otherwise, serum or no, we're probably gonna drink ourselves to death.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter this week.

Things got better after that. Not at once and not completely; Steve still had trouble sleeping and leaving their apartment made him nervous the next few dozen times he tried. There were still days that the blond couldn’t seem to make it out of bed and he wondered why he bothered waking up. But his promise to Bucky gave him the motivation to accept these setbacks and keep going anyway. If he backed out then so would Bucky and he refused to let his best friend waste his future because of his own damn cowardice.

Steve could finally see a light at the end of this dark tunnel and when Bucky dragged him to the Pratt Institute to enroll in classes, he felt a glimmer of excitement like he hadn't since he woke. Of course, even if the Pratt Institute had bored him to tears, Steve would have signed up anyway. Chasing his own happiness had never been good motivation, but making Bucky happy was enough for him to try.

Because the brunet kept his promise. He called up Howard Stark after just a bit more nudging and when the scientist offered him a job, he accepted on the spot. Apparently Howard needed someone sturdy to test his prototypes and Bucky was more than willing to be his guinea pig.

Steve worried something fierce when his friend explained that offer, but he decided the fretting was well worth it after Bucky came back beaming ear to ear. The other man started leaving for work eagerly each morning and when he got home, he’d tell Steve about the crazy things that Stark was working on.

“We still don't have a flying car yet, but the jet boots are kick ass.”

Some nights, Bucky could talk for hours and on others he’d start to nod off at the dinner table since Howard still kept hours that made normal people weep. But even when his friend was utterly exhausted and complaining loudly about the scientist's inability to speak normal fucking English, Steve could tell there was respect beneath the bickering. Honestly, Howard and Bucky had argued just as much back in the SSR and the blond was overjoyed to see his best friend’s eyes shine so bright again.

Sure Steve missed the other man a little – Stark didn’t know how lucky he was to spend his days with Bucky. But the docks had worked him just as hard during the busy season and once his classes started, Steve didn't have much time to spare.

Suddenly his days were full of lessons and his nights filled with assignments, mostly art but also a few essays now and then. The blond was out of practice and his classes discussed techniques that he'd never tried before. Some of them he'd never even heard of but Steve wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and he was determined to learn as much as possible. The Pratt Institute wasn't cheap even with his savings and he intended to get his money's worth.

There was one trick to portrait shading that gave Steve heaps of trouble and he forced his friend to sit for him until he got it right. Seventeen drawings later, Bucky was out of patience but he finally had the knack of it and the top score in his class. Steve didn’t mind the effort; the more his teachers challenged him, the more he felt like he was living instead of getting by.

The blond hadn’t lost his nightmares but the ennui was fading and the sleepless nights that still plagued both him and Bucky were gradually filled with sketches and schematics instead of alcohol.


	11. Chapter 11

Two months in, Steve felt enough like a real person to contact the Commandos; he wanted to see his friends again. It took some effort to coordinate their schedules since most of them were still in Europe and finagling a few days off for Bucky was a mission in itself. Steve had to threaten Howard for the first one and he got the second by inviting the other man to come along.

He and Bucky arranged to meet the Howlies at their favorite local diner and the excitement Steve felt over their reunion was well worth the time and money spent.

“Hey, Cap! Sarge! Over here!”

Steve looked up at the shout and he grinned wide when he saw Morita walking toward him rapidly.

“Jim! It's good to see you,” Steve said, pulling the other man into a hug. “But you know I'm not your captain anymore.”

“Whatever you say, Cap,” Morita told him with a laugh as he and Bucky slapped each other on the back. Indeed, Jones, Dernier, and Falsworth greeted Steve and Bucky exactly the same way and after the fifth, “Aye, aye captain,” the blond gave up protesting the title anymore.

Once everyone had arrived, the six of them moved into the diner, talking and laughing over top each other until Steve could barely tell who was speaking anymore. The Commandos didn't settle down until they'd gotten their meals and claimed a corner table, six men squeezed together in a booth built for four.

“How have you been? You're looking better,” Falsworth asked during the first lull in conversation. “Are you doing something new these days?”

“Yeah, both of you looked like corpses when we first pulled you out,” Jones agreed. “I should have stayed here longer, helped you settle into being plain civilians.”

“No, Gabe, you shouldn't have,” Bucky disagreed. “You all have lives of your own and we needed some time to get our heads together. We weren't very fun two months ago.”

“We spent years slogging through half of Europe with you; if we could eat your cooking, I think we could have managed to deal with your bad moods,” Morita snorted. “I still don't know how you managed to char toast.”

“Hey, I had good reason,” Bucky retorted. “I wouldn't have been distracted if _someone_ hadn't forgotten to dry our packs out properly. And I wouldn't be so sure about surviving; you've never seen Stevie here in a proper snit.”

“Buck is right. Neither of us would have been great company,” Steve said, the familiar banter making him smile easily. “But it's really good to see you and things are going better now. I’ve actually gone back to school.”

“I finally convinced this lug to train as a real artist,” Bucky added, clapping the blond on the shoulder. “People will pay a fortune for his stuff one day, just wait and see."

“Makes sense to me,” Jones told him. “Cap always did draw the nicest maps. Not like Jacques and his awful chicken scratch.”

“My maps are good,” Denier retorted, his English having grown much better through the years.

“Yeah, maybe for a bomb drop. The rest of us prefer a bit more detail when we’re laying out our traps,” Morita said. “But what about you, Sarge? Have you gone and become a scholar too?”

“Are you kidding? Could you see me in a classroom?” Bucky snorted. “I'd go crazy in a week.”

“He's working for Stark,” Steve told the Howlies proudly. “Buck tests out his new inventions to make sure they can handle the stress of battle without breaking. You know the way most soldiers treat their gear.”

“That sounds interesting. And dangerous. Is it dangerous?”

“Only sometimes; I did have one gun explode on me a few weeks back. Made a huge dent in the floor.”

“I need details. Many details,” Dernier said fervently and the ensuing discussion of explosives lasted until their plates were clean. The Commandos paid their bill and then wandered from the restaurant, strolling through the streets until they saw an empty bar. 

Steve bought the first round of shots with one extra glass for Dugan, the Howlies toasting their fallen comrade before slamming their shots down. Bucky bought the next round and Morita the one after, the conversation growing louder as drinks flowed freely back and forth. A dozen glasses later, the whole group somehow made it to Stark's mansion and even though Steve was still sober, he really wasn't sure how that went down.

They weren't actually supposed to meet Howard until tomorrow, but the scientist welcomed his trespassers with wide open arms. He gave them his standard dose of sarcasm and access to a fully-stocked liquor cabinet, the shelves holding enough expensive alcohol to pay Steve’s rent for a month.

Lesser men could have drowned in such largess and the Commandos gave it their best try. They told stories of the war, of their lives and of their families, Steve and Bucky making sure that their friends were comfortable as they passed out one by one.

“Well, I guess it's down to us then,” the brunet said after tucking a blanket over Stark's snoring form. “Should we just go to bed?”

“Nah, let's stay a little longer,” Steve replied, flopping down on the sitting room’s ridiculously soft couch. “I know I see you near every day, but it feels like it's been forever since we had a chance to talk.”

“If I'd known that you were missing my scintillating conversation, I would have made more of an effort,” the other man said with a grin, perching on the arm of the couch. “And you know you can tell me to drag my head from my schematics any time. Sometimes I think I'm turning into Stark.”

“You like your work, Buck. That's not a bad thing.”

“As long as I still manage to have an actual life. You think I should try harder to go out?” Bucky mused. “What do you say, Stevie? You wanna go dancing?”

“You serious? Haven’t I ruined enough of your double dates by now?” the blond asked, ducking his head to hide his blush. He wasn't sure why he was embarrassed; maybe he simply wasn't used to seeing that particular smile anymore – soft and fond with just a hint of wickedness.

“Nah, you were usually good company even when you were being a sarcastic punk. Not your fault most dames couldn't see what they were missing,” his friend told him. “Of course, these days I'd be lucky to get a second glance. The dames are gonna swarm you as soon as you walk in the door.”

“You make it sound so inviting,” Steve retorted. “I think I'll pass for now.”

“Whatever you want, Stevie. You know the offer's always open,” Bucky said with an easy shrug before his expression turned more serious. “As long as we're talking, there is something I've always wondered. Why didn't you ever ask about the draft?”

“Why would I, Buck? What brought this on?”

“Seeing this lot made me think about the war,” the other man said, waving his hand vaguely at their sleeping friends. “And I know you heard my serial number when you found me at Azzano – I repeated it enough on that damn table and you're not an idiot. Starting with a three means that I was drafted, so why'd you never ask? Why did you let me keep pretending that I actually volunteered?”

“Honestly, Bucky, it didn't seem important,” Steve replied. “You were fighting either way and I'd had my suspicions from the start.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. It's not like you'd ever talked about enlisting. Suddenly joining up one day was out of character.”

“I suppose it was. Who knew I'd be so damn good at killing people?”

“ _Protecting_ people, Buck, and you were always good at that,” Steve told him fiercely. “Drafted or not, I just wanted to support you. Why'd you think I was so desperate to get into the army? I wasn't only there to fight the Krauts.”

“I never told you this, but I was glad that you kept failing,” the brunet admitted quietly. “I didn't doubt your courage but I wanted you kept safe. The thought of you still back in Brooklyn was comforting when I was on the front and I always had a feeling that I wouldn't make it home. Of course, if you'd listened to me instead of getting yourself all scienced up, I really would have died – or something worse – so I guess I should be glad that you're a stubborn idiot.”

“It was worth it,” Steve replied, needing Bucky to know that he was better than he thought. His friend always said that Steve was the good one but the blond knew that wasn't true. Captain America hadn't been anything without Bucky at his side. “Give me the chance and I'd make all the same choices. You're my best friend, Buck, and I don't want to know what I'd do without you; I don't want to find out.”

“Same here, Stevie,” the other man said with another of those smiles that made Steve flush red-hot. “But we really should be turning in now before we get too maudlin. We don't need to be weeping into each other's arms.”

“Because we've never done that,” the blond snorted but Bucky had a point. Not about the crying – his friend had seen him bawling more than once – but about the sleeping. Steve's sleep schedule still wasn't regular enough that he could afford to blow it off. So the two men wandered off to find spare beds – Howard had about a dozen – and he even managed to sleep through the night for once.


	12. Chapter 12

In the morning, Steve and Bucky woke up early and went out for a run, arriving back at the mansion with plenty of time to shower and dress before their friends woke up. The brunet teased the other Howlies mercilessly as they groaned and staggered upright, reveling in his new immunity to hangovers while Steve went to the kitchen to whip up his old cure.

It was his mother's recipe, the one he used to give to Bucky after long nights on the town. Steve hadn't had the opportunity to mix this drink in ages but it came back to him quickly after he began. The unfamiliar kitchen gave Steve a bit of trouble at first – who needed fifteen kinds of silverware? But Stark's butler showed up in the doorway part way through his rummaging and the concoction went much smoother with his help. 

The other man kept handing Steve incredibly expensive versions of the stuff that he was used to and he tried not to think about the fact that they'd be drinking three weeks’ pay. At least the Howlies appreciated the blond's efforts, gulping it down with loud sighs of relief.

“Hey, Cap, you don't need to go to art school. I'll offer you my backing and we can make a fortune selling this,” Stark said once he'd drained his glass completely. “Seriously, Jarvis, tell me you got his recipe.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Good. Give yourself a bonus on next payroll, a big one,” Howard told him. “And we'll want the Rolls Royce after breakfast. Make sure it's all gassed up.”

Jarvis nodded one more time before he exited, disappearing from the room as silently as he'd entered earlier.

“That man would make a damn good spy.”

“Don't even think about it. He's a damn good butler and I'd probably starve without him,” Stark retorted. “Speaking of which, what do you bastards want to eat?”

After the mansion's cook whipped up enough food to feed an army – and then a second course – the seven men finally got moving. Apparently Howard had decided late last night that the Commandos needed to be shown all the sights of the Big Apple and while Steve still felt uncomfortable being chauffeured around the city, he didn't argue very hard. Not when Bucky had always wanted to get up close and personal with Lady Liberty. The blond couldn't let him miss his chance, not when it had been his health that always ate up Bucky's money and kept him from his plans.

So the group climbed up the Statue of Liberty and marveled at the view, Howard's money getting them a completely private tour. Steve's fingers itched for a sketchbook as he took in the New York skyline, though he also had to stop himself from tugging Bucky from the edge.

The blond didn't know how his friend could lean over the railing without having flashbacks of their plummet from the train. Even standing two feet back, Steve couldn't stop the nervous flutter in his gut and despite the gorgeous view, he was relieved when they reached solid ground again.

Then it was Central Park, the Brooklyn Bridge and a quick swing by the Flatiron Building before the group hit Coney Island, Steve and Bucky stuffing themselves on hot dogs like they'd done when they were kids. However, the blond had learned his lesson about getting on any rides afterward. He stood on the sidelines while Bucky dragged Stark and Jones onto the Cyclone, the rest of the Commandos watching from the ground as the dang thing started up.

Howard gave up after the first go round but Gabe and Bucky kept on going until neither man could walk straight and they were looking rather green. Not that this stopped his friend from stealing Steve's last piece of candy floss and cackling like mad when he tried to steal it back. The two of them started scuffling right there on the Boardwalk while the other Howlies laughed.

“Reminds me of the way they used to fight over the last tin of beans,” Steve heard Morita mutter as Bucky grabbed him in a headlock and he was just getting in a few good strikes of his own when Howard bought them all new bags and ruined everything.

But the blond decided that Stark could be forgiven as he watched Bucky suck sugar off his fingers; the other man had always had a sweet tooth and the war had made him even more appreciative of such small luxuries.

 _I should've brought a hat,_ Steve thought when he started to feel a little overheated. He might not get sunburned like he used to – one more thing fixed up by Erskine's serum – but he knew the signs of heatstroke rather well. What else could make him feel like he was burning, bits of sugar sticky on his tongue?

“You all right there?” Falsworth asked, nudging the blond's arm.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking that it's been a while since I've gotten this much sun. I should enjoy it while I can.”

“I know what you mean,” the other man said with a chuckle. “England isn't exactly known for its good weather and work keeps me in the office from dawn to dusk more often than I'd like. The wife wants me to take a transfer and I'm starting to wonder if she's right.”

“I'm hardly an expert if you're asking for advice,” Steve told him. “But I'd love to meet your family if you can bring them out next time.”

“Maybe if someone else will foot the bill again. Traveling across the ocean really isn't cheap,” Falsworth told him. “Now come on, no more brooding. I know it's not your strong suit, but we're here to have some fun.”

The Brit had a good point so Steve pulled his thoughts back to the present, to the sun and the laughter and the spark in Bucky's eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve held his memories of Coney Island close as autumn turned to winter and snow filled New York's streets. Although he didn't have to worry about freezing like he used to, the cold brought his nightmares back in force.

The blond dreamed of losing Bucky, of the other man slipping through his fingers as he watched paralyzed. He couldn't move, couldn't stop his friend from falling to his doom. Steve couldn't even jump after the other man as he had in real life, wrapping himself around Bucky and deflecting the worst of the impact with his shield.

Night after night he watched the brunet shatter on the rocks and woke up crying, a scream still on his lips. Night after night Steve reached for Bucky and missed him every time.

He poured his fear into his artwork, his teachers remarking on the starkness even as they complimented his bold lines. They didn't know Steve's style the way that Bucky used to; they didn't know enough to worry at the change.

Steve could tell that Bucky worried even though the other man didn’t ask him any questions. The brunet just roped Jarvis into making Stark keep better hours so that he and Steve always had time for a real dinner before they went to bed. He didn't pry, just kept Steve company, talking if he wanted to and staying silent otherwise. 

There was still a separation, the weight of things unspoken, but the gap didn't seem as daunting anymore. Slowly but surely, the two of them were moving forward and Steve had faith that they would find their balance once again. Life would be almost normal if the blond could only sleep.

“Hey! Wake up, Steve! Wake up!”

He snapped to consciousness, nearly braining Bucky as he shot upright. His friend was leaning over him and Steve grabbed onto his arms tightly, panting heavily as he tried to calm his racing heart. His feet were freezing, which might explain the strange turn that his dreams had taken, ice creeping up his body as Bucky bled out at his side. But the other man was warm beneath his hands, his voice a low rumble that chased the ghosts away.

“Sorry, Buck. Did I wake you?” Steve asked quietly.

“Nah. I was just getting some water when I heard you shout my name,” the brunet said with a half shrug. “I know that we don't talk about this and I didn't mean to overstep but it seemed cruel just to ignore you like I always have before.”

“I- thank you,” Steve told him, unable to stop a shiver from running through him now. “That was... that was a bad one.”

“Yeah, Stevie. Sounded like it,” Bucky replied, patting his shoulder and then sliding to his feet. “I should go back to my room but I hope you sleep better now.”

He took a few steps toward the door, barely away from the bed before a sudden flash of panic had Steve reaching out again.

“Wait!”

“Stevie?”

“Could you please just stay?” the blond asked weakly. He could feel his whole face flushing but he didn't take the words back. Steve might be embarrassed but he didn't want to be alone.

“Are you sure?” Bucky replied hesitantly. “It won't be an easy fit.”

“I know but... maybe it will help,” Steve said. He hated to show weakness but he couldn't do this anymore. “I keep dreaming that I've lost you and if I wake you'll be right there.”

“All right, Steve. I got you,” his friend told him almost instantly. Bucky had always offered Steve anything he needed and the blond didn't know why he'd been so worried that the pattern would change now. “Budge up a little, will ya? I want some pillow too.”

He rolled onto his side and scooted toward the wall, trying to give Bucky as much room as he could. Steve's bed really wasn't built for two and the other man let out a grumble as he tried to get comfortable. But eventually he settled down with his back pressed tight to Steve’s like they'd often slept out in the field. Steve could feel his best friend breathing – could feel his warmth like a bonfire – and the sensation quickly drew him back down into sleep again.

Bucky was gone when Steve woke up and the blond couldn't find the strength to talk about it. His fears seemed so damn stupid in the light of day and he was actually grateful that Bucky never brought the topic up. But the next time Steve had a nightmare, the other man just grabbed his pillow and slipped into the bed without a word. This soon became a habit and with his best friend there beside him, the blond's nightmares finally eased.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve hadn't slept alone in almost three weeks when he finally mustered up the courage to ring Peggy. He’d meant to call her for a while, to make sure she knew that he was truly happy for her and to see if maybe they could still be friends. Peggy had been one of the first people to believe in him – after Bucky and his mother – and he hoped that she’d forgive him for failing to take the news of her marriage gracefully. 

However, Steve still found himself a little blindsided when Peggy promptly invited him to dinner at her house that coming Friday. “You can bring Barnes too if he doesn't have a previous engagement. It would be good to see you both.”

The blond could hardly refuse the invitation and by the time he hung up the phone again, he'd somehow promised her dinner, Bucky, and a bottle of expensive wine as well. Which is how Steve found himself standing outside of a small brownstone four days later, holding a wine bottle and wondering if he should have worn a nicer tie.

“Will you quit fidgeting? You're worse than my little sister was when she went on her first date.”

Steve turned to glare at Bucky, the other man looking far too relaxed where he stood a few steps down. However, before the blond could snark back something suitable, he heard the front door open and quickly spun around.

“Peggy, it's good to see you,” he murmured quietly, the breath punched from his lungs. She was still the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen and Steve took one long look before reminding himself firmly that he no longer had the right. But he was still gaping like an idiot when Bucky stepped up to his shoulder, doffing his hat and greeting Peggy cheerfully.

“Hello, Mrs. Sousa. It’s very good to see you,” the other man said before plucking the wine from the blond’s hands. “This is for you.”

“Oh, thank you. I told Steve that you didn't need to bring anything, but he was quite insistent,” Peggy said and Bucky smiled impishly.

“Don't be silly, of course we had to bring something. Only the best for our best lady,” the brunet told her with a bow. “Besides, I nicked that bottle from Howard Stark and I doubt he'll even notice. The man has wine to spare.”

“You really are a wicked one, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?” she replied. But her expression was amused rather than offended and just like that, Steve felt himself relaxing. He probably wouldn't ever get over Peggy Carter, but he didn't have to now; tonight they were just three old friends catching up again.

“Please do come in,” she told them. “I try not to scandalize the neighbors anymore than necessary.”

“Pity that,” Bucky murmured, but he followed them inside.

“Daniel is waiting in the dining room if you'll just walk through,” Peggy said as she closed the door behind them. This odd request made sense when Steve and Bucky entered the room and Peggy's husband pushed himself to his feet, most of his weight supported on the cane in his right hand. His leg clearly gave him trouble but he seemed to be in good health otherwise, his smile bright and his eyes warm as he held out his free hand.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, it's good to finally meet you more officially,” the man said. “I'm Daniel Sousa, Peggy's husband.”

“Steve Rogers, but you already knew that,” the blond answered. “Please call me Steve; we're all friends here.”

Daniel's grip was firm, his gaze steady, and Steve's first impression gave him nothing to dislike, nothing but a weak twinge of fading jealousy.

“I'm not a sergeant anymore,” Bucky said as he shook Daniel's hand as well. “Just call me Bucky – or James if you must. Your wife there has always refused to use my nickname.”

“Bucky is no name for a grown man,” Peggy replied.

“Maybe, but Buchanan ain't no name to give a kid so you can blame my folks for that one,” the brunet snorted in response. Then he turned back to Daniel and asked, “I'm sorry, but do we know you? You seem familiar.”

“Not by name,” the other man replied. “But I was a few cells down at Azzano. You both saved my life.”

“I didn't do anything special,” Bucky protested even as Steve said, “I couldn't have done it without Peggy. She deserves the accolades.”

“Really? Is that true?” Daniel asked his wife. “You should have mentioned it.”

“Of course not, he exaggerates. All I did was find a plane,” Peggy told him with a smile. “Now, please, no war stories over supper. You might lose your appetites.”

“As you wish. The lady’s choice, of course,” Bucky agreed. “Although, I'm sure that I have a couple war stories that wouldn't distress anyone. Like the tale of our captain's first encounter with French cooking. Those poor snails would never be the same.”

“Seriously, Bucky?” the blond groaned.

“Everyone likes that story, Stevie,” the other man retorted.

“How about it, Pegs? Just a little shop talk?” Daniel pleaded with a crooked grin.

“All right,” she conceded. “I must admit, I haven't heard this one.”

“Because I made him promise not to tell you,” Steve admitted and he knew when he was beat. “Shall we open up the wine?”

Several glasses, one fine dinner, and too many embarrassing stories later, Steve was having a grand time. Once Bucky finished embarrassing the blond, he and Peggy had both gotten a few digs of their own in – the brunet accepting the ribbing gracefully – while Daniel countered with a few of his less successful missions from his early days at S.H.I.E.L.D.

“I got a lot of coffee,” he admitted with a self-deprecating sigh.

“They didn't know what they were missing,” Peggy said, reaching out to take his hand. “But you proved them wrong.”

“We both did,” Daniel told her with an adoring smile and watching them, Steve couldn't help a stab of wistfulness. Not jealousy exactly; he liked Daniel too much to wish them separated. The other man was smart, funny, and clearly thought the world of Peggy. But Steve still wanted the sort of love he saw between them and he told Bucky as much after they’d made their excuses, saying goodnight and promising that they'd do this again sometime.

“I really thought she was the one, Bucky. And now...” he shrugged. “I hope I haven't missed my only chance.”

“Does this mean you're finally ready to take out other women? There are some nice girls at the lab.”

“I don't know, pal,” Steve told him. “I think I'd rather let things happen naturally.”

“Your loss.”

“And hey, you're hardly one to talk. It's not like you go paint the town these days; are you gonna settle down?”

“I don't know, maybe,” Bucky said with a shrug. “The way Stark has me working I'm not sure I have the time to take a dame out properly. Besides, who knows if either of us will be lucky enough to find another girl like Peggy Carter? That woman is one in a million.”

“True enough,” Steve told him, ducking his head a little when Bucky grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don't worry, pal. Until then, we can keep each other company.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally gets a clue.

“Did you hear about Stark Laboratories? Michael said the Russians blew it up.”

The girl wasn't talking to Steve but the words still stopped him in his tracks, several of his classmates cursing when they ran into his back. 

He rushed across the hall to the student who had spoken and demanded frantically, “Who blew up? What happened?”

“Excuse me? Who are you?” the girl's friend replied, glaring up at Steve. “It's not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Please, I’m sorry. I've been in class all morning and if something happened to Howard Stark then I really need to know,” he told her. “It’s important.”

“Look, I don't know much,” the first girl told him, taking pity on his fear. “There was an explosion at Stark's lab this morning; it was mentioned on the radio. My friend Michael said that it must be the Russians but I don’t-“

“Thanks,” Steve interrupted, missing the rest of her explanation as he dashed off down the hall. He ran full out to the nearest subway station, a chorus of _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,_ running through his mind.

By the time he reached Howard's facility, Steve was half-convinced that his friend had probably died and the cordon of fire trucks around the building didn't help to calm him down. He shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the firemen who tried to move him back.

“It's all right. Let him through.”

“Howard! Where's Bucky? Is he okay? What's going on?”

The scientist looked tired, dust covering his face and a bandage wrapped around his head.

“I really hate explosions. But your boy there saved my life. He's over in that med tent,” Howard said, jerking his head toward a temporary structure that had been put up nearby. “Barnes wouldn't sit down until he was sure that we’d been rescued and then he went and kicked the doctors out. But I promise you, he's fine.”

Steve was already moving before the other man had finished. He burst into the tent with Bucky's name there on his tongue and he almost collapsed with relief when the other man looked up. His friend had removed his shirt and was wiping bits of rubble off his skin, cuts and bruises fading quickly right before Steve's eyes. 

“Damn, you heard the news then,” Bucky muttered, putting aside his towel. “I was hoping that you wouldn't have a chance to worry. It really wasn't bad.”

“Explosion!” Steve replied, gesturing wildly toward the ruin of Stark's lab. That was hardly a full sentence but the other man understood what he meant anyway.

“It was just a disgruntled ex-employee with a bomb,” the brunet told him. “I subdued him without much trouble but he had a Dead-Man-Switch and I didn't grab it fast enough. Seriously, Stevie, there's no permanent damage. It looks worse than it is.”

“I could have lost you,” the blond said, the reality of that statement crashing over him. Bucky could have died and Steve would have been oblivious, sitting through his classes without a single clue.

“You could've...” 

Words failed him then so he just leaned forward, taking the brunet’s face between his hands and kissing him with everything he had. Bucky’s lips were slack and warm beneath his, sweet and oh so tempting, but Steve didn't realize what he'd done until he pulled away and saw his best friend gaping up at him.

“Shit! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... Oh my god,” Steve stammered, backing away slowly.

“Hey, wait,” the other man said, shaking himself from his stupor and grabbing the blond's hand. “Come back here a second.”

Bucky reeled Steve in and kissed him. He was careful but not hesitant as he slid their lips together, his stubble rough against Steve's skin. The blond was afraid to touch the other man, afraid to blink and realize he was dreaming, but he couldn't hold back a low moan when Bucky sucked on his lower lip.

“ _Huh_. That's... interesting,” the brunet said when he drew back again. “I think we need to talk.”

Steve blinked once dazedly and then returned to panicking. He didn't know what was going on – wasn't even sure why he'd kissed Bucky in the first place – and he was terrified that he'd ruined everything. 

The blond was only vaguely aware that he was hyperventilating, choking on air like his asthma had returned, and he flinched when Bucky grabbed his shoulders.

“Steve. Hey, Stevie, it's okay. You gotta breathe for me.”

“I- I can’t-”

“In and out, pal. You can do it,” Bucky said. He talked Steve through the process until the panic started fading and he could finally breathe again. “Relax, punk. I'm not gonna throw you to the wolves. You're my best friend and you'd have to do a whole lot worse than that to make me give up on you. We'll figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed a little shakily. 

“Good. Now let's get out of here.”

Steve trailed after Bucky as he stood up and left the med tent, his cheeks flushing scarlet when he realized that he was watching his friend’s ass. Although the blond had always known that Bucky was attractive, he'd never thought about it consciously. But the sway of the brunet’s hips felt so damn familiar, like he'd memorized the motion a thousand times before. 

“Hey, Howard,” Bucky said as they approached the scientist, Steve trying to look attentive instead of awkward as all Hell. “I need to take this guy home before he frets himself to death. You all right to finish here?”

“Yeah, go on. I've got this covered,” the other man told him. “Actually, you might as well just take the weekend. You've earned it and I need to see what can be salvaged before we start work again.”

“Then I'll see you Monday. Thanks, boss,” Bucky replied before tapping Steve on the arm. “Come on, punk. Let's go.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes does not believe in Big Gay Freakouts.

Neither man broke the silence on the way back to their apartment. Bucky seemed deep in thought and Steve was busy tallying the number of times he glanced at his friend habitually. He gave up around a hundred and since most of those looks were aimed at the other man's mouth, his sudden desire to kiss Bucky was clearly not as sudden as he’d thought. Indeed, it took an effort of will not to watch the brunet’s ass as he followed him up the stairs to their apartment. Instead he found himself staring at the broad sweep of his friend’s shoulders and wondering how they'd feel beneath his hands.

“Home sweet home,” Bucky murmured, shutting the door behind them. The other man ran his left hand through his hair, a nervous tic that he'd never gotten rid of, and then turned back to Steve. He sat the blond down on the couch before grabbing a chair out of the kitchen and sitting down across from him. 

Bucky straddled the seat, resting his arms on the back of the chair and asking, “So, Stevie, you wanna tell me why you kissed me?”

He didn't sound angry or disgusted, just honestly curious, but the blond couldn't find the words to answer. He didn't know how to describe the mess of want and love and worry that was knotted in his chest so he just shrugged helplessly.

“All right,” Bucky sighed, tugging at his hair again. “Different question. Are you queer now?”

“I don't think so,” Steve said, managing to spit the words out somehow and trying to be as honest as he could. “I mean, I still think women are attractive and I really did like kissing Peggy. I would have married her happily. I just also...”

“Want to kiss me too,” the brunet finished for him. Bucky paused for a second, looking pensive, and then asked, “Are you in love with me?”

Steve's first instinct was to deny it; that was ridiculous. But then he really thought about it, about the way he'd spent his whole life chasing after Bucky and how he'd felt watching the other man go off to war without him. He thought about the panic he'd felt on learning that Bucky had been captured, the way he'd always wanted to protect the brunet and try to make him smile, and how he slept much better with his best friend at his side.

Steve wanted to kiss him; he wanted to wrap himself around the brunet and hold him tenderly and he didn't know how he'd never realized that till now. He wanted them to live out their years together and suddenly love didn't seem like such a bad word for his feelings after all.

“I really think I am, Buck. You've always been the most important person in my life and if you gave me the choice, I'd jump off that train again, every single time,” Steve said, meaning every single word. “But I don't expect you to feel the same. I know you'd die for me and that's plenty. You're still my best friend first and I'm sorry; I never meant to make things weird.”

“Will you stop apologizing?” Bucky asked, sounding a bit exasperated. “I admit I've never really considered the idea, but you've been the center of my world for years, Stevie, and kissing you wasn't all that bad. Even before the serum, you were an attractive guy.”

That wasn't the response that Steve had been expecting and he was still reeling when Bucky squared his shoulders and nodded decisively. “All right, then. We'll just have to try it.”

“Try what?”

“Sleeping together, of course,” his friend replied and the blond honestly wasn't sure if he had heard him right. Somehow this conversation had gone completely off the rails.

“What?” he asked, gaping at Bucky in surprise.

“Look, we're practically married already and I'm okay with that,” the other man said plainly. “Since you want to sleep with me and I'm not viscerally opposed to the idea, I think we should give this thing a shot.”

I don't want to force you into anything,” Steve protested.

“You're not forcing me, you idiot, I'm offering,” Bucky told him with a crooked grin. “I've always been a hands on sort of guy and I won't know if I like it till I try it. I'd rather know for sure, one way or the other, and if it turns out that I can't handle being physical, then we go from there. But it seems stupid to dismiss the idea out of hand.”

“We'd have to keep it a secret,” the blond said. His resolve was weakening quickly but he couldn't say yes without ensuring that the other man had really thought this through.

“So we take a dame out now and then to deflect suspicion,” the brunet responded with a shrug. “We're already hiding who we are and our abilities. This is just one more secret, one that’s no one else’s business anyway. Come on, punk. Take another leap with me.”

At this, Steve's resistance crumbled and he found himself nodding faintly. He still felt like he was dreaming when Bucky sat down next to him and he was afraid to move lest he wake up again.

The blond kept his hands to himself as the other man leaned in to kiss him, though he couldn't stop himself from kissing back. Bucky was just _Bucky_ , strong and stubborn and everything that he’d never known he wanted. Everything Steve had never allowed himself to dream of having and he could barely believe that they were really doing this.

His eyes slipped closed as he chased the warmth of his friend's mouth, their lips moving gently in a slide of skin on skin. Steve was half-hard already and he let out a noise of protest when Bucky pulled away.

“Sorry, this isn't gonna work,” the other man said. However, before Steve had time to panic, Bucky added,” You're just too damn tall. I'm getting a crick in my neck and it's damn uncomfortable.”

He took a quick look around the living room, considering their options, and then said, “Ah, screw it. Scoot back a little, will you?”

Steve did as Bucky asked, though he wasn't quite sure why, and he nearly had a heart attack when his friend hopped into his lap. Bucky straddled his thighs, knees braced on the edge of the couch and his arms around Steve's neck.

“There, much better,” the brunet said with a grin as he looked him straight in the eye. Then he buried his hands in Steve's hair and dove right in again. Kissing Bucky before had been nice but this was so much better, the other man a blaze of warmth against his chest. 

Steve wrapped his arms around his friend and tried to pull him closer. Those shoulders were just as muscled as he had imagined and Steve felt Bucky shiver when he stroked his fingers down his back. But that mouth... fuck, that mouth. The blond was pretty sure he whimpered when the brunet's tongue teased his lips apart, licking and exploring and tasting everything. It was heat and groans and filthy murmurs, sucks and nips and Bucky's hands stroking through his hair.

Steve clutched at the other man's hips and pushed into his kisses, sucking hard on Bucky's tongue when it slipped between his lips again.

“Jesus, Stevie,” the other man exclaimed, pulling back just far enough to gasp against his mouth. His chest was heaving, sliding against Steve's with every breath, and the blond’s length twitched as he imagined doing this with both of their shirts _off_. 

However, before Steve could suggest undressing, Bucky planted another kiss on the corner of his mouth. He trailed kisses down Steve’s neck, licking and stroking and somehow finding every spot that made him shudder, finishing with a sharp bite to the blond's right collarbone. Just a hint of teeth before he soothed the sting with lips and tongue and Steve couldn't stop his hips from rocking forward then.

“Fuck, sorry,” he groaned when his johnson rubbed over Bucky's stomach.

“Don't _apologize_ ,” the other man ordered, drawing back to glare at Steve. Bucky looked... he looked like sex personified, completely wrecked and gorgeous. His lips were red and bruised from kissing, loose strands of hair were falling in his face, and his eyes... Steve had never seen those blue eyes so dark and hungry; Bucky looked ready to devour him whole and the sight threatened to steal his breath away.

Steve did gasp when the other man thrust his own hips forward, letting the blond feel just how hard he was right now.

“I may not be queer for anyone else,” the brunet murmured against Steve's skin. “But apparently I am very queer for you and I just... I wanna watch you fall apart.”

Bucky stole one more kiss before sliding off his lap in one smooth motion.

“Hey, wait,” Steve protested; Bucky wasn't supposed to go _away_. But then the other man nudged his legs apart and slid down to his knees.

“What are you doing?” the blond asked breathlessly. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way that Bucky was looking up at him and he was sure that he’d be blushing furiously if all his blood hadn't rushed down south instead.

“Trust me, Stevie,” Bucky murmured as he unbuttoned the blond's trousers. “A French gal did this for me once and I think you're gonna like it.”

Steve shivered when the cool air brushed over his aching johnson or maybe it was just the look in Bucky's eyes. The other man considered his cock for a moment, long enough that the blond started to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Are you just gonna stare?” he asked. “I'm pretty sure it's normal.”

“Normal? It's fucking perfect. I'm a little jealous honestly,” Bucky told him with another crooked grin. Then he bent his head and it took everything Steve had not to buck his hips when wet heat engulfed his length.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, hands clenching in the couch. “Bucky!”

It was less a word than a strangled gasp and the blond swore that he could feel his best friend smile around his cock. Then Bucky's mouth tightened and Steve lost the ability to think about anything at all. There was just heat and pressure, the smooth slide of Bucky's lips as he took Steve deeper. His tongue teased over the slit and around the head, tracing the line where Steve's foreskin would have been. Bucky swallowed and then choked a little, lifting his head to cough.

“This is harder than it looked.”

“Are you all right?” Steve stammered, a little surprised that he managed to get the sentence out. He felt like he'd run a marathon back before the serum, the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

Steve stroked his hand down Bucky's cheek, wiping up a drop of spit at the corner of his mouth. He let his fingers trail over the other man's skin, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip. Bucky grinned and nipped his finger before sucking Steve's thumb into his mouth.

The blond's breath caught, his length twitching again as the brunet hollowed his cheeks, swallowing around Steve's finger as he had around his length. Bucky pulled off with a wet pop and then settled himself a bit more comfortably.

“You can touch me, you know. I want you to touch me,” the other man said, his voice a low rumble that Steve felt to his bones.

Bucky took the blond's hands and put them on his head, waiting until Steve curled his fingers against his scalp before leaning in again. His friend’s mouth was no less overwhelming the second time around but touching Bucky helped to keep him grounded, his fingers clenching tightly in the other man's hair. He didn't take Steve quite as deep this time but he made up the difference with his hands, his palms rough around the base of the blond's cock. Bucky stroked him slowly, fingers quickly matching the rhythm of his mouth.

Rough and smooth, heat and cooler pressure, Steve lost himself to Bucky easily. He wanted to watch, wanted to see his johnson disappear between those slick red lips, the other man's mouth stretched wide open and obscene. But Steve's eyes kept slipping closed as waves of heat washed over him.

“Fuck, I'm close, Buck,” the blond groaned, his whole body burning from the inside out. He heard his friend moan in answer, the sound muffled by the roaring in his ears.

Instead of pulling back, the brunet just pushed closer, taking Steve’s cock as deep in as he could. The other man swallowed around his length and then sucked hard, the added pressing breaking Steve's control. He snapped his hips forward sharply and his mind went hazy as he came with a hoarse shout.

The blond man collapsed back into the couch, every muscle limp and tingling. He sat there panting for a long moment, cracking his eyes open just in time to see Bucky spit into his handkerchief. The brunet looked even more debauched now, his hair a sweaty mess and his face flushed red. Steve thought he could be content to watch his friend like this forever, reveling in the evidence that Bucky wanted this as much as him.

But then the brunet shoved a hand down his own trousers, biting his lip and baring the long line of his neck, and Steve couldn't just watch anymore. He surged forward and grabbed Bucky by the shoulders, pulling him back into his lap and kissing him hard. Steve chased the taste on Bucky's tongue as he worked his hand into the other man's pants. He tangled their fingers together and stroked the brunet quickly, hard flesh hot against his palm.

“ _Steve,_ ” the other man keened, breaking their kiss to bury his head against Steve’s shoulder. He rocked his hips into each stroke, twisting his wrist and showing Steve just the way he liked it. The blond was an eager student, matching Bucky's rhythm until his friend was shaking in his arms.

“Let go, Buck. I've got you,” Steve murmured into the brunet’s skin. “I wanna see you come.”

He stroked Bucky again, rubbing his thumb over the slit and spreading slick all down his shaft. Once more a little faster and the other man stiffened, going still as he spilled into his hand. The brunet was completely silent except for a quiet whimper and the sound made Steve’s cock twitch again. His refractory period was apparently ridiculous but maybe he'd finally get the chance to test his stamina to the limit with both of them enhanced.

But first Steve had to catch Bucky as he melted, only the blond's firm hold keeping him upright. He held onto the other man as he moved to lay them down, dangling his legs off the end of the couch and letting Bucky sprawl on top of him. He stroked the brunet’s hair with one hand as his friend curled into his chest with a contented purr, wiping his other hand off on Bucky's trousers. They were a lost cause already and it was a good thing that Steve could afford to buy another set of clothing because those stains were never coming out.

However, even if he hadn’t had the money, this would have been well worth it. So he just settled his arm beneath his head and continued petting Bucky until the brunet finally stirred.

“What do you think, Stevie?” he asked quietly. “Was that a successful trial run?”

“I think I need to thank your French gal,” the blond told him honestly. “You sucked my brains out through my johnson and they aren't all back again.”

“I don't know about that. I think I could use a bit more practice,” his friend chuckled. “Wanna give me a hand?”

“I'll give you both,” Steve promised. “In fact, as soon as I can feel my legs, I might ask you for a lesson. You don't get all the fun.”

“Fuck Stevie,” the other man groaned. “You're gonna be the death of me. Why the hell didn't we do this years ago?”

“No idea,” the blond answered. “But we're here now so let's enjoy it. I don't plan to waste our second chance, not anymore.”

“Me neither,” Bucky told him. “Though I don't think a dozen lifetimes could make me sick of loving you.”

Steve couldn’t doubt the brunet’s sincerity. His friend had never done things by half measures and he knew that they were in this for the long haul, both of them together till the end. So of course Steve had to kiss him and the conversation ended quickly after that. 

Maybe they should have talked about it instead of jumping in headfirst. But loving Bucky felt so natural, so inevitable, and Steve couldn't be afraid of falling with his best friend at his side.

 

_Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me, but this really is the end. I feel like these two will be all right now and I honestly have nothing else to say.


End file.
